Leave No Regrets
by Silver Glass-A Light on Water
Summary: How do you pick up the threads of an old life, when in your heart you have begun to realize, there is no going back? Maybe, a new life is just around the corner. New adventure, new fears, and new heartbreak. Frodo/OC, post-quest.


Hello. This is my first fanfic, so I'm not sure if I am doing things correctly so I appologize in advance for any mistake I may make or anything I do that makes me look like an idiot. Other than that, enjoy. It switches from Frodo's point of view, to Mirabelle's point of view, an occasionally another person's point of view.

...

The Shire was saved. The weight of the fate of Middle Earth should have been lifted from his shoulders. He should have felt relieved and happy, ecstatic, actually. But how do you pick up the threads of an old life, when in your heart you have begun to realize, there is no going back. Some wounds never heal. Frodo Baggins was ready to leave Middle Earth. Or so he thought. Until, one day, he met someone he did not expect and was thrown into the life of someone who would change him more than the One Ring had.

...

**Writing was something that had always come naturally to Mirabelle, whether it was poetry, a fictional story, or a strongly worded letter. She always had a way with words. But there were no words that could describe the excruciating pain that was enveloping her. It took everything she had to stay upright on her pony. Even riding a pony, the fall from the saddle is a long one for a hobbit. As she rode, searching for some form of shelter, the tiny life inside her was telling her it was time to enter the world. If only she had been more prepared. If only he hadn't left when he found out she was pregnant. If only it wasn't storming. Amidst her self-pitying thoughts, she had defiance in her. She would not cry. A flash of lighting lit up her surroundings and she noticed a hobbit hole that seemed very dark. She didn't know her way around Hobbiton, but the sign read Bag End. **

**"Rich hobbits often own many holes and maybe this one is vacant," she thought desperately. "How can one blame me, for merely searching shelter?" Another flash of lightning sealed her decision. But if she had looked closer, she would have seen the lone candle in the farthest window, flickering feebly around a very weary hobbit. She pushed the door and it creaked open.**

**.**

Frodo, weary and aching, put down his pen and absentmindedly touched the scar on his shoulder. The pain of the wound still fresh in his mind, he was lost in thought. A small creak brought him out of his reverie. "Must have forgotten to latch the door again," Frodo thought. He traipsed through the dark to the front of his house, but before he got there, he saw something move in the shadows. Fear flickered through his body, images of Ring Wraiths and Gollum flashed across his vision, and for a moment he was back in Mordor. A whimper brought him back to the present, and as his eyes adjusted he saw a round woman bent over in apparent pain. Bewildered he searched for a candle, and when lit, it shed light on one of the saddest sights he'd seen in years.

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**As Mirabelle pushed open the door waves of something that was beyond pain coursed through her and it took everything she had not to cry out. She heard a scuffle of feet and realized too late that the house was not, in fact, vacant. She tried to hide in the shadows, and for a moment, the man that had walked out of the dark seemed to look right through her. More waves of pain forced out a whimper, and suddenly his eyes focused on her. She froze, awaiting his action. To her surprise he turned and walked a few steps away, and before she could say anything, a candle was shinning in her face. The pain caught up to her, and as she doubled over in pain, tears still would not come. As strong and independent as she was, she did not know what to do. She mustered her strength and growled "Help me," through clenched teeth.**

**.**

Sobbing, soaking, and in obvious pain, the woman made no effort to move. Frodo was struck speechless. As he walked slowly towards her, her condition was made obvious to him. She was pregnant and, obviously, in labor. Her voice came out in almost a hiss, asking, or more like demanding, his help. In a split second he rushed to her side, helping her stand. At first she flinched away, like a shy horse, and then her fingers closed around his arm like vices and he winced. A scream of pain echoed through the house and he half carried, half dragged the woman into the nearest bedroom. With a grunt, he hoisted her onto the bed and for a moment just stared. This woman's apparent pain and attitude were etched across her face, which, under other circumstances, looked as if it would be beautiful. Waist-length tangled hair was plastered around her face, which was set in a determined state. Another scream sent him into swift action. Running to the kitchen, he realized that he had not spoken a word to the woman who was now in his bed. He knew nothing about her, yet he was about to deliver her baby. This would be an odd addition to his book.

Moments later Frodo returned to the bedroom with hot water, towels, blankets, and liquor. To his dismay the woman was not screaming anymore, but looking as if her strength had left her and she was no longer crying. Frodo had seen many babies delivered while a young lad in Buckland, and this was never a good sign. He rushed to her side, setting down the contents in his arms, and took her and firmly.

"Miss..well, I know this is not the time for introductions, but I am Frodo. And I'm going to help you. But I need you to stay with me, and I'm going to need you to work with me. Now, I don't know what brought you here, but if you want this baby to survive you must do exactly as I say," she nodded reluctantly and Frodo continued. "The father of this baby wouldn't want you to give up, and neither do I." At this, a small tear rolled down her cheek, and her determined attitude flickered for a moment. Her eyes rose to meet his.

.

**Mirabelle collapsed onto the bed as the man ran out of the room. She was so tired. Before she knew it, the man was back, and he was speaking to her. She nodded at what he was saying. She built up her courage, was ready to do this, for her baby's sake. And then he mentioned the father, the man who had given up on her. "The father of this baby wouldn't want you to give up, and neither do I." She felt one lone tear escape her down her cheek. She looked into his eyes, and their piercing blue somehow comforted her, and her mind was set. He may have given up on her, but she would do this for her baby. She braced herself and made herself ready. He looked at her and she nodded, crying out as another wave of pain washed over her. He set himself at the end of the bed, lifting up her skirts. She clenched them in her hands, and he spoke to her in a calm voice. "Miss, I can see the head. I'm going to need you to push as soon as you feel your next contraction." She nodded fervently, not able to form words, and within the next second, she pushed as if her life depended on it. **

**.**

Frodo saw her face set in determination and he positioned himself at the end of the bed, and handed her skirt to her. She held them so tight her knuckles turned white. He realized as he looked down, he could see the baby's head, and placed his hands accordingly. He gave her quick instructions, and she nodded. She pushed and pushed, and before he knew it, a screaming baby was in his hands and her legs collapsed onto the bed without a sound. Quickly, he cut the cord, wrapped him in a towel and patted his back to make sure he could breathe properly. He stood up and walked around the bed smiling, ready to hand the mother her baby. But the once flushed woman was now a pale heap on the bed.

.

**Mirabelle faintly heard the cry of newborn and felt gentle hands between her legs as they collapsed, as if no longer a part of her. Everything seemed dim, and the last thing she saw was vibrant blue eyes.**

**.**

_Miles away, a man sat on a stool at a bar, drunk and angry. He had been made a fool of. For now he had no woman. No one to cook or clean for him, nor pleasure him. There were herbs that prevented this kind of thing, and she did not take them. And when he suggested he help her get rid of it, she had run. The anger bubbled inside of him as he finished his fourth ale of the hour, and he slammed it on the table, earning stares from the other drinkers. He had made his decision, for she had made hers stupidly. He would make her sorry for everything if it was the last thing he did. He did not care what happened to the child._

_._

Frodo stared in disbelief at the woman. For a moment he feared her dead, until he saw the shallow heave of her chest. He was frozen where he stood. For some reason, he could not bear to see her die, though it happened to mothers occasionally. But..she was so beautiful, so young and full of life. And he did not even know her name. The baby shifted and let out a wail, wanting food. Now he knew he had to get the doctor. He looked out the window and realized it was early morning. As he calculated a plan of action, there was a knock on the door. He hurried swiftly to answer, and saw Samwise Gamgee. He took in the confused look on his face and followed his gaze to the newborn wailing in his arms. "Mr. Frodo?.."

"Sam, hurry, inside!" then a thought occurred to him. "No wait! Go fetch the doctor quick. It's an emergency!" Sam, still utterly confused, backed out the door, nodding his head. He climbed on his pony, Bill, and sped off down the road. Frodo closed the door and hurried to the kitchen to warm milk for the baby. He had to feed it something, and only hoped that the doctor could arrive quickly, I hopes to save both mother and child.

With the child settled into an old crib found in one of Bilbo's closets, (and wondering why he had one) Frodo settled into a chair next to the bed, mopping the woman's face with a cool cloth. He had cleaned the bed and propped her into what he hoped was a more comfortable position. The baby boy was sleeping contently, and Frodo sat for what seemed like hours in worry.

Finally, after staring at the woman for any kinds of change, Frodo heard the sound of ponies coming up the road. He rushed to the window, and indeed, it was the doctor and Sam. He ushered them into the bedroom quickly, and the doctor proceeded to kick both Sam and Frodo out.

"Mr. Frodo, would you like me to put on some tea, or perhaps have Rosie come and—"

Frodo cut Sam off, "No Sam, Rosie is with child herself, and does not need the strain. Why do you think I did not call on her last night?" Sam just shrugged and sat next to Frodo on the couch. A moment later, the doctor motioned for Frodo to come into the bedroom.

There was a definite change in the woman's features, as she was not so deathly pale, and her chest rose and fell at a normal rate. Frodo looked at the doctor hopefully.

"Your wife—"

"She's, uh, not my wife," Frodo said uncertainly. The doctor raised his eyebrows and Frodo hastily added, "I do not know who she is. She came to me in the middle of the night asking for help so.." Frodo trailed off. The doctor nodded and looked back at her.

"She will need plenty of rest, and I have this," the doctor pulled out a bottle, "that will ensure her recovery, but it is..quite expensive." Frodo nodded and walked to the closet and pulled out a tin, which held shiny gold coins. Little did the doctor know, there was a tin like this one in about every room. He handed the doctor more than the price of his visit and the medicine combined and asked him if he could remain quiet about this whole ordeal and not let anyone know the woman was staying there. The doctor looked suspicious, but nodded anyways and said his goodbyes. "She will wake in an hour and it is very important that you get her to feed the child. Even if you have to help her..." the doctor trailed off, as it was rather an uncomfortable position that Frodo was in. Frodo just nodded and closed the door after thanking him.

Sam, still sitting on the sofa, crossed his arms in front o his chest. Frodo smiled sheepishly. "I suppose you want an explanation?"

"Mr. Frodo! Who-what-how!?" sputtered Sam. Frodo smiled and patted Sam on the arm, motioning for him to sit down as he told his the story of what happened.

"Oh, Mr. Frodo, I am sorry I jumped to conclusions! I feel quite embarrassed now," Sam said as he and Frodo stood over the bed that harbored the mysterious woman.

"What conclusions might that be, Sam?" inquired Frodo, eyes locked on the now peaceful face upon the pillow.

"Uh, well, you see, I had thought that quite possibly, it was possible that you—"

"Spit it out Sam!" Frodo said laughingly.

"I thought her to be your lover!" Sam said sheepishly, his face turning rosy. Frodo looked over at him, and laughed.

"No, Sam, I do not know her," Frodo said softly. However much I would like to, he added mentally. She was a beauty, not in the way that most hobbit lasses were. She was curvy, with a round face and delicious lips. Her auburn hair fanned around her face in wild curls, and once rough hand clutched the bedspread. Yes, she was a beautiful woman, one who had obviously been through more than he knew.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam questioned. Frodo looked up to see Sam watching him. He did not know how long he had stared at the woman, and suddenly felt foolish.

"Sorry Sam, just wondering I suppose," Frodo said.

"Yes, well, I must be off. Rosie will be getting worried. Just send for me if you need anything, anything at all," Sam smiled and walked down the hallway. Frodo watched him disappear from the window, and stood looking out for a long while. The cry of the baby brought him back to the present. Picking up the baby, he turned around. He heard a rustling sound, and looked up to find two dazed hazel eyes looking at him.

.

**Why were her eyelids so heavy? She wanted to open them; she wanted to see her baby. Mirabelle heard a soft wail, and knew it was her baby. With all the effort she possessed, she drug her eyes open, and searched the room. Once again, she met bright blue eyes. The man, the man who had helped her, what was his name? Before it even registered in her mind, she was speaking. "Frodo, may I hold my baby?"**

**.**

The hazel eyes focused and she spoke, asking for her baby. Carefully, Frodo propped her into a sitting position, finding pillows to rest her arms on. Gently, he laid the baby in lap, as her arms could not hold him yet, and she smiled. "Tobie," she whispered.

"Miss…" Frodo trailed off, realizing he didn't know her name.

"Mirabelle," she supplied. "Mirabelle…Underhill." Frodo smiled knowingly, and she shrugged her shoulders. He would not press the issue.

"Well Miss..Underhill," she tilted her head as if to correct him. "Mirabelle, I there anything you require?"

"Oh, no, I am quite fine for the moment," she replied, beaming down at her son. Frodo turned to leave when he remembered the doctors orders.

"Um, Mirabelle, the baby needs…fed," Frodo stated. She looked up, and then at her useless arms, and then at him, cheeks reddening. Frodo smiled reassuringly. "I told the doctor I would help you." She nodded and he stepped forward. Next to the bed, he reached to unbutton the front of her blouse, when he realized there was no buttons.

"It unties in the back," she mumbled. Frodo laughed awkwardly and tilted her forward a bit, reaching for the ties and undoing them. The garment slipped over her shoulders, almost revealing her fullness. He noticed bruised along her back and shoulders, but did not comment. Frodo hesitated for a moment, and then, deciding it had to be done, gently pulled the fabric of one breast. Slowly he brought the baby up to the breast and stepped back. Mirabelle awkwardly smiled her thanks to him, and he sat down in a chair to rest his eyes. Awkwardness aside, he was exhausted.

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**His hands were gentle, and Mirabelle trusted him. She did not flinch away this time, for she trusted him. He would not harm her nor take advantage of her. As he slid off her clothing, she sighed. If only HE had been this gentle, this caring. Maybe she would not be in this predicament. She felt her baby gently pressed to her breast, and she looked up and smiled at him, meeting his blue eyes once again. Then again maybe things happen for a reason. She watched as he walked to a chair, weary from the night's events. He rubbed one of his shoulders, as if it pained him. As she nursed her son, she watched him fall asleep. His skin, pale as ivory, almost glowed against the contrast of his dark curls. Slowly, she too, drifted off to sleep, dreaming of deep pools of deep blue.**

**.**

Thanks for reading, and please review if you feel like there is something I need to know, or just want to comment. Best Wishes, Lauren.


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